


To Celebrate as a Dane

by TiyeTiye



Category: The Last Kingdom
Genre: Let's be Danes, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiyeTiye/pseuds/TiyeTiye
Summary: Leaving her husband behind in Mercia, a pregnant Aethelflaed visits Uhtred and his family at Cookham for the Yule celebrations.





	To Celebrate as a Dane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pokeasleepingsmaug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokeasleepingsmaug/gifts).



> A Yuletide gift for my wonderful co-captain of Team Sihtric, the ever-fabulous pokeasleepingsmaug!

“There now, finished,” murmured Gisela, trying the sash around Aethelflaed’s rounded belly. She took her gently by the shoulders and slowly turned her around, giving Aethelflaed’s borrowed clothes an appraising eye. “Perfect,” she smiled, “You look just like a Dane now. Your own mother would not recognize you.” 

Aethelflaed fiddled with the long braid Gisela had plaited into her hair, trying to find a smile. “It’s a good thing my mother is not here. The sight of me in these clothes would send her to her grave, no matter how fine they are.” 

“Do not think of that now,” Gisela said, smiling gently. “It is Yule - no time for dark thoughts! You are here, safe among friends, and for now we have peace. Soon enough your child will be born.” Gisela dropped her voice to a gentle murmur. “Erik would want you to be happy tonight. Do not worry about your mother, your father, or your miserable pig of a husband tonight. _Tonight_ , you enjoy yourself.”

Aethelflaed felt herself being borne along by Gisela’s good humor. She was right, Aethelflaed had every right to be happy. Leaving her husband behind in his estate had been the right decision, the bad weather she and her servants had faced on the road and the added difficulties of traveling while so heavily pregnant had been a small price to pay to be here among friends and away from Aethelred’s constant foul moods. Even her child seemed to be happier tonight, slumbering contentedly within her as though secure in the knowledge that all was well. 

Yet Aethelflaed felt a twinge of doubt. “You are sure this is not too much? You and Uhtred have been so generous to me already.” 

Gisela shook her head. “Not at all. Now…we are both ready to go and join the others I think. Some people might think twice about the Lady of Mercia entering a hall full of pagans for the Yule Feast, so tonight you celebrate with us as a Dane!” 

—————————————————————————————————

The feast was already in full swing as Aethelflaed entered the hall trailing behind Gisela. The sounds of singing and laughter filled the air and though it looked like the entire village of Cookham had managed to squeeze into the hall, Uhtred spotted them as soon as they walked in. 

“Ah, my wife!” he shouted, striding across the hall, wrapping his arms around Gisela’s waist and spinning her around. Gisela shrieked in delight as he set her down and buried his face in her neck, growling like a beast. 

“Uhtred! Uhtred stop it!” Gisela shouted, twisting in her husband’s arms and giggling like a little girl. Uhtred laughed, planted a final kiss to her neck and released her, turning to look at Aethelflaed. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of her in Gisela’s blue gown. 

“Is this the Lady of Mercia I see before me?” he asked, looking to Gisela with mock surprise. “Surely not! Surely this is some family of yours from Northumbria, come to visit, and not the daughter of King Alfred?”

“Do not tease her,” Gisela chided, giving him a soft elbow in the ribs. “Not tonight!” 

Uhtred pulled her closer and brushed his lips against her temple. “As you wish.” He smiled at Aethelflaed over the crown of Gisela’s head. “Lady,” he said to her. “You are most welcome to my hall this Yule. _Most_ welcome. Come and sit with us.” He tucked Gisela under one arm and took Aethelflaed’s hand with the other, leading them across the hall through the sea of people. 

He led them around the hearth, where the flames of the fire were steadily climbing up the sides of a log that looked bigger than her father’s carriage, to a long table crammed with people. At one end, Uhtred’s children looked to be trying to eat their own weight in honey cakes as they played with a herd of small straw goats, while at the other, Osferth, Hild, Sihtric and Finan were sharing cups of ale. Finan did a double take when he caught sight of Aethelflaed. 

“Lady!” he exclaimed. “How fair you look tonight! Fairer than the moon! Come and sit, come and sit!” 

Aethelflaed laughed at his exuberance. His face was flushed and she would have bet that he’d been drinking since the morning. “ _Rounder_ than the moon perhaps,” she said, carefully easing into a spot at their table, Gisela and Uhtred settling on her other side, still holding hands. “I cannot say if I look fair or not,” Aethelflaed continued, “But I _know_ I am very round, though I thank you for your kind words, Finan. ” 

“You are a vision I say!” Finan cried, thumping his fist on the table. “Sihtric! Tell the Lady she looks beautiful!” 

Finan’s drinking partner shook himself like a hound and peered across the table at her. He was sitting the closest to the fire, and wrapped up in a sheepskin. He also looked to have icicles melting in his hair, and Aethelflaed had the distinct impression that he was having trouble focusing his eyes. 

“Yes. Very nice!” he finally blurted out. 

Aethelflaed bit her lip to keep from laughing.“Sihtric,” she said carefully, _“Why are you wet?”_

Finan burst out laughing as Sihtric gave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I _almost_ made it.” 

“Almost made _what_?” Sihtric remained stubbornly silent, face twisted in chagrin.

“Come now Sihtric, _tell the Lady what you did_ ,” Hild said, sitting across from her and daintily sipping her ale. 

Sihtric glared at her before turning back to Aethelflaed. “Finan bet me a new dagger that I couldn’t run across the ice on the duck pond without falling in.” He heaved another heavy sigh. “I _almost_ made it.” 

“ _Almost_ doesn’t count!” Finan shouted in triumph. “And don’t you be stingy now when you head to the blacksmith!” 

Aethelflaed looked to Hild. “You didn’t stop him?!” 

Hild shrugged. “I tried, but sometimes men need to suffer the consequences of their own foolishness, especially when they have that much ale in them” Hild said airily, refilling her cup from the jug. “That, and he is too big for me to tie to a post.” 

Osferth leaned over and tapped Hild on the shoulder. “Sister, that is now your _ninth_ cup of ale…”

“I know that, Brother Osferth,” Hild said sweetly. 

“But you asked me to stop you when you got to six….”

Hild quirked an eyebrow at him. “Brother Osferth, I know what I said, yet while our hosts are celebrating their Yule, it is _also_ Christmas time. I don’t believe our Lord would begrudge us a bit of good cheer to celebrate the birth of His son, even here among the Danes.” 

“If you’re sure….”

“ _Quite_ sure.” Hild said, topping up Osferth’s own cup. “Now have some more, Brother Osferth.” 

“Aye, Baby Monk, drink up!” Finan said, slapping the younger man on the back. “It’ll put hair on your chest!” 

Aethelflaed leaned over to Finan. “How long have you all been here drinking?” 

Finan thought for a moment. “Started just before midday.” 

“That was _hours_ ago!” 

_“_ Aye.” 

Aethelflaed glanced at Hild. Compared to Finan’s flushed face and Sihtric’s befuddled mind, the nun’s posture was perfectly straight and she seemed as sharp as ever. 

“Then how in God’s name is she…?”

Finan slapped his cup down a bit too forcefully. “I’ve no idea. She’s like this _every year._ There’s a devil in her. There’s _got_ to be.” 

Hild smiled sweetly at him. “ _Someone_ has to keep you from getting too high an opinion of yourself.” 

“Devil. Woman,” Finan playfully growled, gesturing at her with his cup.

“Not sorcery, just skill,” Hild replied, tapping her cup against his. 

At the head of the table, Uhtred grabbed his cup, and leapt up to stand on its surface, stomping his feet to call for silence. 

“A toast!” he cried. “A toast, this Yule,” he raised his goblet and the hall followed suit, “To absent friends! To those who have come back to us, may your nights be warm, may your children grow fat, and may the wolves stay far from your thresholds.” His eyes fell to Aethelflaed. “And to those we have lost…..may they feast with the gods in Valhalla, and know that they are not forgotten here. We will tell their tales, sing their songs, and keep their names alive, until the gods reunite us with them once again. _Was hail_!” 

_“Drink hail!”_ thundered the citizens of Cookham in reply. 

“Drink… _drink hail!_ ” Aethelflaed chimed in. Within her, her child gave a strong kick, and Aethelflaed clapped a hand to her belly in surprise. Gisela noticed. 

“What is it? Is it the child? Are you alright?” 

“Yes, fine… I think she is just happy to be here.” 

Gisela smiled. “You think it is a girl?” 

“Yes…I am almost sure of it.” 

Gisela wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. “She is happy to be among her people I think,” she glanced at Uhtred. “Her father would have liked to be here too, if things had been different.” 

Aethelflaed smiled sadly. “Erik loved Yule when he was a child. He told me about it when we were together. The feasts, the games, the songs….” 

“You should have had your own hall, somewhere in Danelaw. Your own life.” 

Aethelflaed rubbed a hand over her belly. “She will be enough. And I am of Mercia now. She will have to be of Mercia too.” 

Gisela nodded slowly, cheek resting against the crown of Aethelflaed’s head. “But you will always have a place here if you desire it. Uhtred and the others could keep you safe.” 

Aethelflaed sighed. “I will have to go back soon. Talk is already starting to spread. I will have to return to my husband before it gets out of control.” 

Gisela kissed her forehead again and hugged her closer. “I suppose you are right. But soon is not now,” she leaned forward, looking down the table, “Finan!” 

The big Irishman nearly choked on his ale. “Yes, Lady?” 

“Our guest thinks it is time for a game outside!” A chorus of agreement went up around the table, Uhtred’s children clapping their hands in delight. 

“Yes, Lady!” Finan agreed. He tossed back the remains of his ale, got to his feet, and swept Aethelflaed up out of her seat. “Up you get, Moon Lady!” he shouted, taking her in his arms like she was still a small child and striding towards the door to the yard. “Sihtric! Osferth!” he called back over his shoulder. “Come on, you’re both on my team!” All around the hall, people surged to their feet, following the laughter of the Lady of Mercia out into the cold winter’s night. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
